


Body Shot

by menel



Series: The Blind Verse [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode Tag, Established Relationship, F/M, M/M, Soulless Sam Winchester, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-03
Updated: 2012-06-03
Packaged: 2017-11-06 17:17:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/421367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/menel/pseuds/menel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"If we do this," Dean said, "then it's my rules. My game. For <strong>everything</strong>. Think you can handle that?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Body Shot

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally published on my LiveJournal on November 26, 2010. It fulfilled the prompt "experimental: licking" on my Kiss Bingo card. 
> 
> The fic contains blanket spoilers for Season 6 until episode 8, "All Dogs Go to Heaven."

  


Banner made by [Loverstar](http://loverstar.livejournal.com).  
[](http://smg.photobucket.com/albums/v300/ciel_en_rouge/Supernatural%20Artwork/?action=view&current=BodyShot-Version3.png)

“Come on,” Sam said, giving his brother a nudge. “Let’s go for a beer.” 

Dean looked at him warily. “I thought you said you were going to stop pretending.”

Sam shrugged. “Who’s pretending? I want to have a beer.”

“And you’re inviting me because?”

Once upon a time the answer would’ve been simple: ‘Because you’re my brother,’ would have effortlessly rolled off Sam’s tongue. But now things were far from simple.

“Because it’s not much fun drinking alone,” Sam supplied. At Dean’s disbelieving look he added, “I do know how to have fun.”

“It’s your definition of fun that worries me,” Dean replied.

“All the more reason to come,” Sam went on. “Didn’t you say that you were going to keep an eye on me?”

“Because now I’m my brother’s keeper,” Dean muttered as they both got in the Impala.

Sam heard the remark but remained unperturbed. He really did want that beer. Or two. Maybe three. And a cheeseburger. With onion rings. Why was Dean taking so long?

  


* * * * *

Dean was feeling marginally better since his third bottle of beer. It helped that Sam, at some point, had left their table to go shoot some pool. It gave Dean some time to adjust and there was a lot of adjusting that needed to be done. He was both relieved and dismayed at Sam’s brute honesty earlier that afternoon. He hadn’t been lying when he’d said that Sam’s declaration to go back to his previous self was a step in the right direction. It was just such a shock hearing Sam state so matter-of-factly that he wasn’t Dean’s brother; that he didn’t really care about Dean at all, beyond the fact that Dean was useful to him. What did you do with that kind of information? How did you even process it? If Sam was no longer pretending to be his brother, what would this other Sam be like? Dean recognized that he had only seen glimpses of this soulless-Sam, this imposter, and those glimpses had not been pretty. They’d been painful and jarring, and ultimately heart breaking. He was starting to have doubts. Maybe pretending would be better than the truth.

Dean wanted to call a time out. He deserved one, dammit. But the closest he could get to that, aside from divine intervention perhaps, was alcohol. He turned the beer bottle round in his hands. He needed something stronger.

“Hey.”

Sam slipped into their booth on the opposite side of Dean, his long legs bumping his brother’s under the table. Dean wasn’t sure if that had been intentional or not, but he had become hyper-aware of any sort of physical contact with Sam, especially after the incident in the motel bathroom a few days before.

“Hey,” Dean said in reply.

“So, these guys I’m playing pool with,” Sam began. “They’re about to leave to go to a bachelor party for one of their doctor friends. They invited us to tag along. What do you say?” 

“You want to crash some stranger’s bachelor party?”

“Yeah.” Sam looked at Dean expectantly.

“Fine,” Dean said, unable to keep the tiredness out of his voice. “You go do that.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m just going to crash.”

“Huh.”

“Huh? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I thought this would be your scene.”

“My scene?”

“Well, yeah,” Sam said, in a slightly mocking tone.

“And what scene is that?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Free food, free alcohol . . . strippers,” Sam added after a dramatic pause.

Dean smiled, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I guess that’s your scene now,” he said, sliding out of the booth and standing up.

Sam was quick. Before Dean could walk away, Sam had reached across the table and grabbed his wrist. Dean glanced down at the hand that was trying to keep him in place. This action was most definitely deliberate and he looked at his brother questioningly.

“Look, soulless or not,” Sam said. “I really think we could use the night out. You know, have some fun away from the job.” 

“You looking for some brother bonding time?” Dean asked, a little cruelly.

“No,” Sam replied, because the comment and Dean’s tone had simply washed over him.

“What then?”

Sam shrugged. “I just thought it would be nice.”

Dean didn’t buy any of this for a minute. Sam **voluntarily** wanting to spend some time with him outside of the job didn’t gel. This Sam flouted convention and sure as hell didn’t care about ‘being nice’. In fact, Sam’s seemingly casual behavior lead Dean to the conclusion that his brother was trying to trap him somehow. Dean should’ve run for the hills, except that he wasn’t the type to run. He’d deal with this head on. That’s why he ended up accompanying his brother to the bachelor party. Sam needed saving from himself and Dean only hoped that he wouldn’t be scarred for life along the way.

  


* * * * *

The bachelor party was held in a large loft in the meatpacking district of the city. Yuppies, Dean thought as he took in the scene around him. The loft looked like the sort of place that usually hosted upscale parties and raves, a hotspot hidden in the grungy area of middle-class industrialization. Most of the men milling about were professionals who had come straight in from work, still in their expensive suits and silk ties. This wasn’t Dean’s scene at all, but he had to give the yuppies credit for having fine taste in strippers. The women dancing on poles and tables, tending the bar and waitressing were all stunning. High-class strippers, the very best money could buy. 

“Hi,” said a voice behind him.

Dean turned around. One of the stunners was in front of him, wearing nothing but a red lace bra and matching underwear.

“My name’s Karamel,” she said. “Karamel with a ‘K’.”

Dean took a moment to admire her. The woman was a stripper. Objectification was part of her job description.

“Well, Karamel with a ‘K’,” he said at last. “Do you taste as good as you look?”

Karamel got half a lemon and squeezed its juice from the base of her neck all the way down to the strap of her panties, allowing some of the liquid to trickle inside. She held out a shot of tequila. “Why don’t you find out?”

Dean took the glass from her. Maybe this hadn’t been such a bad idea after all.

  


* * * * *

Karamel with a ‘K’ attached herself to Dean for the rest of the night. When Dean pointed out that she was neglecting the other patrons, she simply threw her neck back to give Dean better access and told him that the other men weren’t her type. Then she nibbled his ear when she suggested that they should go back to her place afterwards. Dean was seriously considering the offer. He’d been taking body shots off her for most of the night and the thought of crashing at the motel with Sam was becoming more unappealing.

Karamel’s skin was the color of her name and had the lusciousness of the candy. Dean was particularly fond of the body butter that she used, which surprisingly turned out to be a strawberry flavor. Her taste matched the color of her Victoria’s Secret underwear, which was so thin and transparent that Dean wondered why she had bothered wearing it at all. She was straddling him now and as they made out, Dean slipped two fingers in the front of her panties and rubbed her clit. Karamel let out a gasp and met his eyes.

“Let’s go,” she said urgently.

Dean couldn’t have agreed more. He was on the verge of throwing her down on the table and fucking her right there. And that was the exact moment that Sam appeared and pulled up a bar stool beside them.

“Trust my brother to monopolize the hottest chick at this party,” Sam said, looking from Karamel to the hand that was discretely rubbing her.

“You didn’t tell me you had a brother,” Karamel said breathlessly, pushing down on the fingers that were working on her.

“We’ve been kinda busy,” Dean reminded her, pulling his fingers out. There was no way he was going to finger-fuck some stripper in front of his brother. Karamel flashed him an unmistakable look of disappointment. She was already so wet.

Sam saw the wetness on Dean’s fingers and somehow managed to stop himself from grabbing Dean’s hand and licking the juice off. He figured that might freak his brother out and that would ruin his chances of getting Dean tonight. He hadn’t given up on the idea of bedding his brother. If anything, the encounter at the motel had only strengthened his resolve. No, the stripper was his best bet. Dean was obviously interested in her.

“Not going to introduce me?” Sam prodded. “Where are you manners?”

Dean shot his brother a dirty look but Sam only grinned back at him. Sam may not have had a soul, but he could still appreciate irony.

“This is Sam,” Dean said to Karamel. “And this is Karamel,” he said to his brother. “With a ‘K’,” he added.

“Karamel with a ‘K’,” Sam repeated, echoing Dean’s earlier line. “Do I get a taste too?”

Karamel was eying Sam appreciatively, but she looked at Dean for permission. Dean shrugged and that was all the permission she needed to stand up, fill a shot glass with tequila and position the glass in between her breasts. Then she put a slice of lemon in her mouth and went to stand in front of Sam. Dean watched as Sam stood up and placed his hands on Karamel’s waist. Then his brother squatted down and licked his way up Karamel’s body, starting at her naval before reaching the shot glass, taking it with his teeth and downing the liquid in one go. Sam took the glass with his right hand, while with his left he pushed Karamel towards him as he bent down and bit on the slice of lemon in her mouth. The juice squirted and soon the lemon was discarded as Sam kissed Karamel in earnest. It was an impressive display. Dean was already aroused. He told himself that it was a combination of the tequila and Karamel that had turned him on. That was partly true. But it was also equally true that for the first time since he’d begun hunting with Sam again that he found his brother imminently fuckable. Maybe it was the context. Maybe it was because Sam had finally come clean. Or maybe it was because this Sam was sexually confident and aggressive, while his Sam might’ve found the situation slightly embarrassing mixed with a tad of disdain. His Sam might’ve needed a bit of encouragement to take that body shot in public, even if they were at a bachelor party. He suspected that this Sam, stripped of all inhibitions, would be a revelation in bed. Dean loathed himself for even allowing these thoughts to enter his head. Since when had he become so weak?

Karamel’s eyes met Dean’s when the kiss ended. “Maybe we should invite your brother to join us?” she suggested.

“That sounds like an idea,” Sam agreed.

Before Dean could protest, Sam was whispering something into Karamel’s ear. She grinned, her eyes still focused on Dean. When Sam let her go, she stalked over to him and began taking off his jacket, then his shirt.

“Hey,” Dean said, although he didn’t do anything to actually stop her. “What’s this about?”

“It’s time I had a taste too,” Karamel replied.

Dean laughed. “I’m not the one on the clock here.”

Karamel leaned in and flicked her tongue across his lips. “We’re way past that now,” she told him.

Dean had to agree, and so he didn’t protest when Karamel got another lemon and squeezed its juice down the side of his neck, beginning just under his left ear, then travelling down the left side of his chest, purposely lingering on his nipple before continuing lower until the juice was dripping into his naval. When she was done, she poured a shot of tequila but instead of downing it as Dean expected, she turned around and handed it to Sam, who had come to stand behind her without Dean noticing. Then Karamel placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder as she moved to stand behind him.

Dean tensed, realizing that he was being sandwiched by the two of them. Sam was standing in front of him now, predatory in his closeness. He met Dean’s eyes briefly before drinking the tequila. Then his tongue was on Dean’s body, lapping the juice in his brother’s naval before moving slowly, oh, so slowly up Dean’s body. Dean bit back a moan. He wasn’t going to give Sam the satisfaction of letting him know how turned on his was. But his attempt at self-control was pointless because Sam already knew. He had known from the moment that he’d taken that body shot off Karamel and felt Dean’s gaze on him. This was as close as Sam had ever been to his brother since he got back from the cage and he took full advantage of it. His hands were gripping Dean’s waist now, just as his tongue had reached Dean’s nipple. Sam lingered there, sucking gently and massaging the nipple with his tongue. He heard Dean’s breathing hitch, felt his body go rigid. Sam smiled inwardly as he moved upward, tracing the lemon juice up Dean’s neck and ending at the base of his brother’s ear. He flicked his tongue inside and Dean flinched, turning his head to the right as Sam knew he would.

Karamel had watched the scene unfold with shining eyes, and she leaned forward now over Dean’s left shoulder, a slice of lemon in her mouth. Sam met her halfway and bit into the lemon, the bite turning into a kiss as the lemon was thrown away. Dean knew what they were doing. He was trapped between them and the high counter of the table. He counted to ten, waiting for the kiss to end, their breaths on his neck mingling with the scent of lemon and tequila. Karamel was leaning into him from behind, but Dean was more aware of Sam’s hands that hadn’t left his waist. When Dean heard them break apart, he turned his head. He needed to get out from between them. It was a terrible mistake. Sam was waiting for him and Dean ended up crushing their mouths together, which was precisely what Sam had wanted all along. It had been an elaborate set-up to kiss his brother, but it had worked.

The kiss was demanding and aggressive, two words Dean had come to associate with this Sam. His brother didn’t waste any time in exerting his will on Dean. Dean should’ve felt trapped. He was physically pinned to the table and Karamel was still behind him. He was emotionally and mentally susceptible tonight, and the alcohol had done its job of weakening his defenses. But a moment of clarity struck him as Sam was trying to sweep him away through sheer physical sensation. He couldn’t let his brother manipulate him. He had to take control of the situation and that’s what he proceeded to do.

This Sam may not have had a soul, but Dean suspected that he still responded to Sam’s old triggers. He still possessed Sam’s memories and the body was a great repository of memory. Dean had rejected all physical contact – at least, when he hadn’t been coerced – with his brother, so now was an opportunity to test out his theory. The first step involved taking his right hand and slipping it under Sam’s shirt, splaying his fingers on the small of Sam’s back and then using his middle finger to trace Sam’s lower spine, searching for the one vertebra that would . . . there. Dean held the pressure down with his finger as Sam broke the kiss to let out a sigh of satisfaction. He looked at Dean then, eyes burning brightly. Dean smiled a small, secretive smile, his hand still on his brother’s back, his finger now rubbing circles around that one spot that always turned Sam on. He knew that he had his brother.

Sam leaned in again, trembling slightly. It had been so long since Dean had touched him voluntarily, and not out of anger or hate or suspicion. It should have been an important moment, perhaps even a small victory that he had won his brother over to his side, but Sam didn’t care about any of these things. What he had known all along was that Dean knew him better in bed than anybody; that his body would respond to Dean’s touch in a way that it wouldn’t respond to anybody else’s; that his body **craved** his brother’s touch. He was still standing while Dean sat on the bar stool, but he had completely invaded Dean’s space. He meant to kiss Dean again but Dean turned his head to look at Karamel who had not left the brothers’ side. This didn’t prevent Sam from kissing and licking Dean’s neck as his brother spoke to the stripper.

“Hey babe,” he said. “Why don’t you get your stuff and we’ll meet you outside? I just need to have a word with my brother here. That is,” Dean paused, “if your offer’s still on the table.”

Karamel watched in dark delight as Sam continued to nuzzle his brother’s neck, completely oblivious to her presence. She instinctively understood that he had been interested in Dean all along. She should’ve felt used and disgusted by the scene in front of her, but instead she was aroused by the wrongness of it all. And she still wanted Dean. She’d wanted him all night and she was pretty sure Dean wanted her too. If Sam joined them, well, the more the merrier.

“Sure thing, hon,” she said, giving him a dirty smile. “Don’t take too long.” Dean watched as she walked away from them. He was definitely tapping that tonight.

Sam knew the conversation was over and he impatiently turned Dean’s head back to face him. He was so hungry for his brother that he thought he might eat Dean alive. He was zeroing in for another kiss when Dean stopped him by placing a finger on his lips.

“Sit down a minute,” Dean said.

Sam was so surprised that he did precisely that, shifting his stool closer so that his left leg nicely fit in between Dean’s thighs. His knee was almost, but not quite, hitting his brother’s crotch. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“We need to lay some ground rules here,” Dean answered.

“Ground rules?” Sam repeated, sounding completely miffed.

“Yeah, ground rules,” Dean said again. His voice had developed a slightly hard edge.

“Such as?”

“Such as no jumping me until you have a soul.”

“What?”

“And none of your rape tactics either.”

“What the fuck is this?”

“Hey.” Dean put his left hand on Sam’s knee, running it up his brother’s thigh as he leaned in. “I said you couldn’t jump me, nothing about the other way around.”

Sam remained stock still. “You haven’t been exactly eager in that department,” he said sourly. Dean almost laughed at the petulant look on his brother’s face. Was Sam actually **pouting**?

“That’s true,” Dean admitted, his thumb running down the crease of Sam’s zipper. “But things could change.” He looked into his brother’s eyes. Sam’s lust had been dampened, but it hadn’t disappeared. “If we do this, then it’s my rules. My game. For **everything**. Think you can handle that?”

Sam gave nothing away. Dean knew that in all likelihood Sam could agree to this, but not keep his promise. Without Sam’s moral compass, deals like this didn’t even make sense. But Dean had to go through the motions. He needed it to be said, to be out there between them for his own sanity. And if Sam agreed, then Dean would hold him to it. He’d keep his brother on the goddamn straight and narrow until they got his soul back because that’s what brothers do.

“Okay,” Sam said after a long moment. “Your rules. Your game. For everything.”

Dean smiled. Maybe Sam meant it. Maybe he was lying. Maybe it was a bit of both. Whatever it was, it was a start.

“So, can we go now? Karamel’s waiting.”

Sam made a motion to stand up, but Dean gripped his thigh again. “One more thing,” he added. “We seal this deal with a kiss.”

Sam couldn’t hide his surprise this time. He stayed still as Dean was the one who leaned over. Dean paused, lips hovering just in front of Sam’s. Sam could feel his brother’s breath on him. He was certain that Dean wouldn’t go through with it. Dean couldn’t bear to touch him, to be touched by him in return. But then Dean leaned in the last few centimeters and their lips met. It was a soft kiss, a gentle kiss. It reminded Sam of the kiss he had given Dean back at the motel when he had tried to convince Dean that he was still the old Sammy, and that nothing had changed. Dean had seen right through him. Sam couldn’t see through his brother, but he knew that this kiss was important. It was the first time Dean had kissed **him** since he got out of the cage. His mind understood this on a rational level but his heart felt nothing.

 

**Fin.**


End file.
